


Unfinished Business

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like Schrodinger's Cat, John is both dead and alive. Rodney will not accept 'dead' as an answer, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> The opening scene for this story began as a result of a dream. Unfortunately, I did not remember the dream on awakening. This was the best I could do.

He lay on his back, staring up at the clear blue skies. He remembered falling, that split-second of _oh shit_ and the sharp stab of regret for things unsaid, just as he lost his grip and plummeted to the ground. Oddly enough, he didn’t remember the impact. He lay unmoving, uncertain if he should tempt his fate by doing so and discovering just how bad things were. They had to be bad. You didn’t fall from that kind of height and have it not be bad.

Instead he marveled at the beauty of the San Franciscan sky and waited. He knew Rodney would come.

Part of him wanted to get up, to be on his feet when Rodney got there, to smooth away the shock and fear that would no doubt be on his extremely expressive face. It would be a nice stunt, to be standing there when the doors opened and Rodney came barreling out. But there was wanting to play it cool for Rodney’s sake, and then there was being smart. The little voice in his head that told him for fuck’s sake lie still until help arrived was hard to ignore this time. Besides, shouldn’t he be beyond the point where he needed to be cool for Rodney’s sake? Chances are he _was_ injured. 

Hell, he should be dead.

He must be getting old. Or getting soft. Yeah, that was it. After a year on Earth, which was dangerous enough but not in the extremely inventive way that Pegasus could be, he’d gotten careless. Lax. Two, three years ago, he could still scale the city walls like a monkey. Going out on the ledge to adjust one of the shield transmitters that kept Atlantis from prying eyes should have been a piece of cake. A walk in the park. Rodney would never let him hear the end of this.

Of course, a year on Earth hadn’t been bad just for John. He opened his hand and held up the fragment of the ledge that had given way. _That’s okay, old girl. It wasn’t your fault_. The piece seemed to waver slightly as he inspected it, as though he was looking through a pair of binoculars and adjusting the focus at the same time. Well, he’d just taken a helluva fall. He blinked, and when he looked at the fragment again, his vision was clear. _Whew. That was scary_. A lifetime of being grounded, of never being able to fly again—that was the worst thing he could think of. He left his arm propped up on his elbow, still holding the fragment, his hand silhouetted against the sky. Whoever came through the door first would be able to see at a glance that he was alive. Closing his eyes, he waited.

Rodney blasted through the sliding doors blowing like a steam engine. John was a little surprised that Rodney was the first to arrive—shouldn’t the medical team have gotten here first? Rodney should have radioed them as soon as he fell.

“John!” Rodney yelled as saw him lying on the decking. It was a far different cry from the agonized _John!_ that had followed him when the ledge gave way in his hands. This one was still tight with worry, but the previous one? That cry would haunt John until his dying day.

John waggled a pinky in his direction. “Hey, Rodney.”

Rushing forward, Rodney dropped in a sliding stop to his knees beside John. With nary a complaint about the impact to his knees, either. “Ohmygod.Ohmygod. Are you okay? No, how could you be okay? You can’t be okay. You should be dead.” He ran the words together in such a familiar rush of Rodney-panic that John could not help but smile just a little.

Until he considered Rodney’s words. “Yeah, I know.” It was freaky. He didn’t even hurt. Not even the slightest. “I’m fine.”

For the first time ever, it felt weird to say that.

Rodney pried the piece of ledge out from between his fingers. “Tens of thousands of years in Pegasus without damage. One crappy year here on Earth exposed to acid rain, and the city is crumbling to pieces.” He shook the pitted fragment at John’s face.

“Hardly that, McKay. It’s just one piece.”

“The piece that you happened to be clinging to at the time.” Rodney’s voice grated like an engine without oil. He tucked the chunk of Atlantis into the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t move. Medical is on its way.”

“I wondered. I was beginning to think you hadn’t called for help. I really _am_ fine, by the way. I just figured I shouldn’t move until we knew for sure.”

“This from the man who routinely went off on missions despite just having received a perforating stomach wound. Colonel ‘I’m fine, I have another kidney.’ Maybe you’re finally learning something at last.” Rodney wiped his palms down the length of his thighs and fixed John with that bug-eyed, terrified stare that only Rodney could do. “I thought you were dead. I was half way here before I even thought to radio for help. I thought when I got here...” His voice trailed off. The death of every crew member of the expedition crossed his face like the shadows cast by clouds passing overhead. 

“Yeah, I know.” John was repeating himself, but then again, what could he say? “I’m really fine, McKay. Really.”

Rodney patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. There was a time when John would have given anything to have Rodney touch him like that again—in any manner possible—but those days, like their days in Pegasus, were also gone. He missed Pegasus. He never thought he’d say that, but he did.

Rodney’s eyes, almost the exact shade of the waters surrounding the city, narrowed suddenly. “Why _are_ you alive?”

“Gee, thanks, McKay. Sorry to disappoint.” On that note, John decided to sit up.

“Oh no you don’t!” Rodney’s hand tightened on his shoulder and held him down. “You know what I mean. It’s just odd, that’s all. You should be smashed up worse than a piece of china after the proverbial bull ran through the shop.” 

“Mythbusters—” John began, but never got the chance to finish.

“Hello, that’s the meaning of the word ‘proverbial’. Keep up with the topic, will you? And lie still.”

John had almost forgotten what it was like to be manhandled by McKay. The strength in those broad hands and the way he could use his heavier mass to pin John down when it had suited him drew on memories he’d thought he’d buried long ago. There was a time when it had suited him a lot. Oh, who was he kidding? He hadn’t forgotten anything where Rodney was concerned. He’d just pretended for so long not to care that he’d almost bought into the lies he told himself.

It didn’t help that ever since their return to Earth, Rodney had been working out. Funny how Earth, having proven to be less stressful than Pegasus, had finally let Rodney make better choices about food and exercise.

Either that, or he was dieting for his upcoming wedding.

No matter the reason, Rodney looked hot. Damn hot. Sure, he had less hair than he did five or six years ago, but for John, it had never been about hair or how much Rodney weighed this month. It had always been about that crooked smile, and the way he snapped his fingers when he thought of something important, and the sarcasm, and the brilliance that was simply Rodney. It didn’t hurt that he had unexpectedly broad shoulders for a geek and some damn fine biceps. Oh, and let’s not forget that magnificent ass. 

_Forget it. That ship has sailed and it isn’t coming back._

The doors to the city opened behind Rodney and a medical team, led by Carson, wheeled a gurney out onto the deck. Rodney melted back as the team flowed in to surround John, reaching toward check him for injuries, to shine that damned pen light in his eyes, ask their stupid questions, and place a brace around his neck. It was a little like being swarmed by ants, and John had to force himself to lie still and allow them to make their assessments. As he answered their questions without hesitation, some of their urgency quelled a bit, and he could feel them steady, like horses settling back into the harness after getting spooked by something on the road. Someone aligned a backboard next to him, and several people placed themselves so that they could assist in shifting him onto it. He resisted turning his head to watch, knowing he’d get yelled at.

“What happened?” Carson’s Scottish burr was a like a welcome breeze on a muggy summer’s day. The sound of Carson’s voice was familiar and right, which was funny, given that this Carson was a clone, and they were no longer in Pegasus but sitting cloaked in the middle of the San Francisco Bay. Why did he feel like everything would be all right now? Probably because he’d been conditioned to believe that once he made it back to the infirmary and the sound of Carson’s voice, everything would be okay. That they’d made it home once again. At least, they’d made it to the point where Carson could patch them up and fuss over them like everyone’s favorite uncle.

Rodney, as usual, answered for John. “He fell. From the seventh floor. We were working on the shield generator on that level—you know it’s been flickering in and out for months. Colonel _Spiderman_ here thought he could just step out onto the ledge and replace the fluttering crystal without waiting for a safety harness.” Rodney folded his arms across his chest, disapproval coming off of him in waves.

“It was practically a walkway, McKay. At least a foot wide. And the crystal was almost completely shot. It was about to go. No crystal, no cloaking on that section of the city. The Air Force has already chased off one snooping helicopter this morning. And you saw the boat in the bay as well as I did.”

“I did, and that’s why I didn’t try and stop you. But I should have. We could have called the Coast Guard or the Navy or someone to deal with the nosy sightseers in the boat that were getting too close. That’s what they’re there for. Though honestly, the SGC should just make up their minds what to do with us and be done with it. Have you been online and Googled the ‘mystery of the San Francisco Bay’?” Rodney made finger quotes in the appropriate places. “We’re getting almost as much speculation as area 51.”

As usual, Rodney was now indulging in his usual bout of post-near-death-situation verbal diarrhea, as relief nearly swamped him.

Carson gave John a wink, sharing a look of tolerance for Rodney’s ...Rodneyness. His expression became thoughtful, however, and he moved his hands carefully over John’s body, looking for injuries. “Don’t blame yourself too much, Rodney,” he said as he checked John out. “It’s not like anyone else has been able to control the Colonel’s idiotic, heroic impulses in the past.” 

“Hey!” John protested. Rodney just grinned madly. It was an impish expression that John hadn’t seen nearly enough of in the past year. Maybe after he’d gotten cleared by Carson, he and Rodney could go knock back a couple of beers. It would be nice. Like old times. 

“Boredom is a bad thing for John. He’s like one of those dogs that needs to exercise every day or he ends up chasing cars.” Rodney spoke as though he was imparting sage advice.

Carson ignored him to frown and pull out his stethoscope. 

“What are you doing here anyway, Doc?” John asked. He didn’t like the look on Carson’s face. 

Carson didn’t answer. He was concentrating hard, tilting his head as he moved the stethoscope about John’s chest. 

“Dr. Beckett—” one of the medics began in a voice tinged with worry, but Carson waved her off and continued to listen.

“Jennifer is in Geneva at a conference.” Rodney spoke with that slight air of pride he always had when speaking of Keller. As though she was the prize he’d won for the Best Science Project at the fair. “Biro’s on vacation. Carson agreed to come in and cover for them. It’s not like they can get just anyone to fill in here in the infirmary, you know.”

“Nobody ever tells me anything anymore.” It was true. John had found out about Rodney’s engagement to Keller from Teyla. That had been a stinger, for sure. Of course, there had probably been a memo on Keller’s planned absence and he’d just skimmed it and put it out of his mind. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, just phoning it in. He knew it was stupid and that he was risked losing his command altogether when they finally got around to relocating the city, but he couldn’t help it. Something about being back on Earth felt like he was wearing an electronic surveillance bracelet around one ankle. Nothing he did felt like it mattered.

Carson said nothing, but he hurriedly unzipped John’s black tunic at the neck and shoved the stethoscope beneath his shirt. John could feel the cool metal of the bell of the stethoscope on his skin and the warmth of Carson’s hand as he moved about it in fits and starts like a small mouse under a blanket of grass. Carson was obviously looking for something—his motions became a little more frantic each time he shifted the stethoscope. 

John was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

Carson withdrew his hand and sat back on his heels, tugging the stethoscope from his ears. His own eyes, slightly more gray than Rodney’s ocean-blue, focused with the same kind of sharp, professional intensity on his staff. “Don’t just sit there. Hook him up to the pulse ox and the heart monitor.” 

“That’s just it, Dr. Beckett.” The medic flashed an apologetic glance at John before returning her focus to Carson. “He _is_ hooked up. I can’t get any readings.”

“Let me see that.” Rodney pushed in, almost knocking the technician off her feet. He didn’t even notice. He was busy fiddling with the equipment.

“Rodney, let my people do their job.” Carson wasn’t just sharp now, he was angry. Carson wasn’t a very confrontational man, unless you got between him and a patient. This was shaping up to be a Clash of the Titans.

“If they could do their jobs competently, I would.” Rodney said, fury smoldering in his voice. “They’ve obviously made a mistake in connecting the equipment somewhere.”

John watched, mesmerized, as Rodney’s hands flew over the connections. Finding no fault there, he turned to the keyboard, fingers clattering away as he frowned at the monitor screen. John couldn’t turn his head because of the brace, but he could hear the sound of Rodney pressing his teeth against his lower lip and sucking hard. It wasn’t one of Rodney’s good noises. In fact, it was one of Rodney’s ‘everything is about to go to hell’ noises.

“Rodney.” Carson spoke with the authority of God. “We need to get the Colonel to sickbay. Now.”

Apparently, Rodney didn’t believe in God. He took the pulse ox clip off John’s finger and peered into it, blowing on it for good measure before re-attaching it in a slightly different location.

“Um, guys? You want to tell me what’s going on here?”

John’s quest for more information fell on deaf ears.

“Your equipment is malfunctioning.” Rodney was cold in a way that John had never heard before. So cold his voice almost glittered with frost. Whew, he knew Rodney had a temper; they’d all been witness to his spectacular rants and meltdowns before, but this was a different side to McKay. Normally Rodney’s anger was volcanic. The iciness of his current demeanor chilled John more than just a little. His guess was this was a very Bad Sign. Very. Bad.

“My equipment is working just fine, Rodney, and you know it.” Stress thickened Carson’s brogue, something else that John had noticed over the years as being a Bad Sign. “Come now, Colonel. Let’s get you tucked in on this board and to the infirmary.”

‘Comforting Carson’ was also a Bad Sign. John started to protest, but he was deftly transferred onto the back board and shifted onto the gurney while he was still deciding exactly what he was protesting about.

“I’m calling Jennifer.” Rodney whipped out a phone from his pocket and slashed his finger across its surface, stabbing at the first number that came up. He held the phone to his ear with expression of defiant impatience, shooting dark, lethal glances at Carson while he tapped his foot and bit the inside of one cheek.

“You have a cell phone?” John couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“We’ve been on Earth for a whole fucking year! Yes, I have a cell phone. Jennifer has a cell phone. Most normal people have cell phones!” Rodney abruptly switched his focus back to the phone. He took a deep breath preparatory to speaking, only to deflate suddenly like a child’s toy that had been punctured. “Jennifer, this is McKay. I mean Rodney. It’s Rodney, okay? We have a medical emergency here. You need to come back right away. Contact the SGC. The _Daedalus_ isn’t in orbit, but they can arrange a military transport to get you back here ASAP. Call me as soon as you get this message.” He snapped the phone shut with one hand and slid it into his pants pocket.

“I hardly think Dr. Keller is going to get a different result than I am.” Carson was tart, obviously wounded now. Great. They were going to have Doctor Wars over him. “I do know how to use a stethoscope, you know!”

Carson’s people finished strapping John down on the gurney and propelled him with haste toward the doors. Carson and Rodney had to jog to keep up, arguing across him.

“You’re obviously doing something wrong! There has to be an explanation—other than the conclusion you seem to have come to. You see, this is why I hate the soft sciences. This wouldn’t happen in astrophysics or quantum mechanics!”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Schrödinger's cat.” Carson spoke with the air of an outclassed chess player finally being able to announce “checkmate” for once. 

Rodney’s outrage should have been funny to see: the open mouth, the blaze of heat searing across his cheekbones that made his blue eyes even more intense as they flashed with anger. Only both he and Carson were acting as though John wasn’t there and it was starting to freak him out.

“Um, guys? Am I dead or something?” Well, he had to ask.

Rodney whipped his head around to glare down at John. “No!”

“Yes.” Carson looked very apologetic, but also determined. Like he’d stake his Hippocratic Oath or something on his words.

_Well, fuck._

****

Things weren’t much better in the infirmary. Well, okay, a little better. After a ridiculous number of tests, they finally let him off the backboard, and after more tests, back into his own clothing, which was definitely better than the thin scrubs they’d made him wear for the testing. He was still sitting on the infirmary bed while everyone argued around him as though he wasn’t there, however.

“How you doing?” Ronon spoke quietly while Rodney, Carson, and Woolsey had a serious confab off to one side of the infirmary. 

“I feel _fine_.” John was getting a little grouchy about being asked how he felt. He was also still cold, damn it. How come the infirmary was always the temperature of a walk-in freezer unit? You’d think sick people would want it warmer in there.

“You got blood samples out of him!” Rodney’s raised voice carried over to where John sat, and Carson and Woolsey glanced in John’s direction before making shushing gestures at Rodney.

“You do look a little pale.” For once, Teyla didn’t look serene. She was downright worried, as evidenced by the frown marring her forehead, and the way she gripped the bedside rail. She back-tracked when John shot her a look. “Tired, pale. That is all that I meant.”

“Uh-huh.” John said nothing for a moment, and then grabbed a scalpel off the nearby medical tray. His downward strike was blocked by Ronon’s uncannily swift move—Ronon’s hand closed over his own like a steel trap.

“Ronon.” John met his gaze steadily. “I’m proving a point here.”

“It is not necessary for you to harm yourself in order to prove it.” Teyla was stern in that way that only mothers could be. He bet Teyla was an awesome mother. Torren was a lucky kid.

“Yes, it is. That’s my whole point.” He looked at Ronon again, who released his hand and raised his own in a gesture of letting John make his own choice.

“What the hell is going on over there? John? What the fuck?” Hurricane Rodney stormed up the coast and battered the small infirmary bed, just as John carefully sliced his palm with the scalpel.

“Language, McKay.” John kept his voice light, amused. It was funny, but he’d never heard Rodney curse quite so colorfully before today. Rodney had always been more of a ‘crap’ man than a ‘shit’ one. John wondered what had changed. “Jennifer won’t be happy.”

“Fuck Jennifer,” Rodney snarled.

Ronon raised his eyebrows. An expression of pain, scarcely more than a wince, slid over Teyla’s features so quickly it could have been John’s imagination that it was even there at all. He wasn’t focused on their reactions, however. He watched the blade score the surface of his skin, and a few drops of blood welled up. 

“See?” Rodney was triumphant. “You bleed when you’re cut!”

No more than a few drops however. The blood was black, and thick like molasses, too. John half-expected his skin to close over again, Replicator-like, but it didn’t. It gaped without color or pain, like a dead fish lying washed up on the beach. It hadn’t even hurt. 

“Okay now, you need to not do that again.” Carson took the blade from John’s nerveless fingers and placed it back on the tray, deftly wrapping the cut with bandaging material and taping it in place. 

“What’s the point of doing that? It’s not like he’s going to heal.”

“Ro-non.” Teyla’s emphatic reprimand was echoed almost precisely by Rodney’s sharper one.

“What? It’s not.” Ronon caught John’s glance and shrugged.

“I guess this means I’m a zombie.”

“Not funny, Sheppard.” Rodney was back to standing with his arms folded defensively across his chest.

“Mmmm. Brains.” John reached out with his undamaged hand toward Rodney’s head.

“ _Not_ funny, Sheppard.” Rodney flinched back, waving his hand like he was warding off bees. “This is Pegasus, we’re talking about.”

“No, actually it isn’t.” Woolsey chimed in for the first time. “You’re forgetting. We’re on Earth.”

That seemed to have silenced the crowd. For so long, they’d blamed every weird thing that had happened to them on Pegasus, but now it would seem that she was innocent this time. Rodney perked up, snapped his fingers like he’d thought of something, and then slumped dejectedly again. “I’ve got nothing. But you guys are wrong. Sheppard is _not_ dead.”

This time, the silence was downright painful.

“Oh, come on! How can he be dead? He’s sitting right here talking to us!” Rodney pointed vigorously at John.

“Just supposing—”

“No!” The word exploded out of Rodney’s mouth.

“Let me finish, McKay.” At least John could still speak with authority. “Just supposing that I am dead, why am I still here?” Still here, walking and talking, apparently. Creepy.

“I’m not listening to this.” Rodney turned to glare at Carson. “What are the chances that he’s Ascended? That his body is...you know...”Rodney broke off to make a feeble flapping gesture in John’s direction, “...no longer _viable_ , but that his consciousness is on another plane. And he’s just stuck between the two?”

Leave it to Rodney to come up with a creative way to describe death without using the actual word. The words of an old high school science teacher came to mind. John guessed he’d soon find out whether or not death was the ultimate expression of entropy. Huh. He’d have to remember to use that one on McKay later.

“Well, now, that’s a possibility, but not really likely.” John could tell that Carson didn’t want to dash Rodney’s hopes, or anyone else’s for that matter. “We’ve got enough data on people who’ve Ascended to know that we should be able to see some residual energy signatures of some sort. I’m sorry, Rodney, we just don’t have anything to support that theory.”

“Is it possible that this has something to do with the Iratus bug incident? Or the retrovirus that John was exposed to?” Teyla posed her question quietly. “The Colonel has undergone a strange transformation in the past.”

Carson nodded. “We’re looking into that now. What I can’t explain though, is why the effects we’re seeing seem to have only taken place since the Colonel’s fall this morning. One would think if this had something to do with the retrovirus in his system, we’d have noticed other changes before now.”

“Could I have been dead for a while and no one noticed?” It was an odd thought. Surely he would have noticed if he was dead before now.

“You are not dead! How many times do I have to say that?” Rodney bellowed, causing everyone except Ronon and Teyla to flinch.

“When was the last time you shaved, Colonel?” Woolsey had on his worried face, but since that looked like his grumpy face as well as his happy face, John couldn’t gauge how bad his situation was from that alone.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Rodney’s interruption was dismissive, not caring that he was technically calling his boss an idiot. “Even though the growth of hair after death is nothing but a myth, in Sheppard’s case, his hair probably defies that logic as well. The last time he shaved isn’t going to help us in the slightest.”

John touched his face. There was a faint suggestion of bristle along his jaw line. His skin also felt just a little clammy, though that could have been his imagination. “This morning, as usual. I’d have to say that it’s about par for the course for this time of day. Not very helpful, I know.”

Billy Joel suddenly began singing “Uptown Girl” from Rodney’s general location. Turning beet-red, he pulled out the phone, signaled to the others with an imperious wave of his index finger that he was taking a call, and stepped slightly to one side.

“Jennifer.” The relief in his voice was breathily evident. “Thank God. No, no, it’s not me. Listen, it’s John. No, he fell. He fell from the seventh story balcony this morning.”

John thought he could hear sympathetic squawking noises. 

“No, that’s just it. He’s _not_ dead. That’s the problem.” Rodney shot a frazzled glance in John’s direction, mouthing ‘sorry’ at the same time. John indicated with a nod and a little shrug that he knew what Rodney had meant. Rodney dropped his voice and continued speaking. “Look, you need to come back. Something is really wrong and we need your help.”

He straightened abruptly, his mouth falling open in unattractive disbelief. “Yes, I know Carson is perfectly capable of dealing with this. In fact, I’d go so far as to say when it comes to the weird and whacky that Pegasus has thrown at us in the past, Carson has probably more experience in this area than you do. It’s just—I would’ve thought—” Rodney spun around so he was no longer facing the room, his shoulders hunching as he hissed into the phone. “It’s _John_ , Jennifer. I thought you’d want to be here.” 

There was silence for a moment. When Rodney spoke again, it was in his ‘Mr. Frost’ voice once more. “I realize that this is an important meeting for you. No! I’m not saying that your career or profession is any less—no! That’s where you’re wrong! I could be getting awarded the Nobel Prize and I would _still_ turn around and come back here because _here_ is where I belong.” 

John recognized in the way Rodney snapped the phone closed the sound of someone hanging up on someone else. It shouldn’t have made him feel so smug, like he’d just scored one over Jennifer because god knows, they weren’t in any sort of competition, but it did. Yeah, it did.

He might have been smiling just a little when Rodney turned back to face everyone. He felt it fade at the way Rodney looked so uncomfortable, still red-faced and defensive when he spoke. “Dr. Keller isn’t able to return at this time, but she has the utmost confidence that you can handle this situation, Carson.” He hesitated, but then with typical Rodney doggedness, plowed on. “I do too, you know, it’s just the more heads we have together on this...”

“I appreciate the call for additional help, but we’ve got this under control, right, Doc?” John threw his two cents in when Beckett didn’t look all that mollified.

Interestingly enough, Woolsey didn’t look all that happy with Rodney’s statement either. Well, it was hard to tell with Woolsey. He could be pissed that Rodney called Keller or pissed that Keller didn’t come back or merely constipated.

“Your vote of confidence is flattering, Rodney,” Carson said in a voice that didn’t sound flattered at all. “But the truth is, I don’t know what we’re dealing with just now. I’m going to have to run some more tests and search the database for any clues to similar cases. In the meantime, Colonel, I’m going to have to ask you to stay here.”

“I’ll help with the database search.” Rodney wasn’t making an offer; it was a statement.

Carson nodded, but without the stiffness or anger that John might have felt in a similar situation. Another Bad Sign.

With a sigh, John interlaced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. 

“Are you hungry, John? May I bring you something to eat?” The offer was typically Teyla, and he appreciated the thoughtfulness behind it.

“Nah. I’m not really hungry right now. Thanks, though.” That was a little worrisome too. By his calculation, it was late afternoon and he’d missed lunch. He should be hungry by now.

“What the Colonel needs at the moment is some peace and quiet. You can come back for the view—I mean to visit, yes, visit, later.” Carson flushed an unattractive, blotchy red. “Go on now, off with you.” He shooed them out.

John watched them go with regret. At the door, Rodney turned to look back at him. His face was pinched with worry, but his eyes blazed with promise. If anyone could figure out how to fix what was wrong with him, it would be McKay.

****

Not only did he not seem to need any food, but he didn’t seem to want anything else, either. He couldn’t concentrate on games, or reading, or any of his usual in-hospital distractions. The hours in the infirmary dragged on, however, and despite the bright lights and constant movement around him, John had just closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Mostly because it meant people were more likely to leave him alone. After a while, he just sort of zoned out. Not really awake, but not exactly asleep, either.

A creepy-crawly feeling that he was being watched seeped into his subconscious and he opened his eyes. Kanaan was sitting in the chair beside his bed. John sat up and looked around, confused and not certain why Kanaan was there. It wasn’t exactly like they were close or anything.

“Hey.” His voice came out gruff, as dry as though it had been buried in dirt. His first instinct, which was to ask for water, dissipated when he realized he didn’t really need any.

“You do not breathe.” Kanaan’s face was almost comical—The grimace of his mouth conveyed distaste, while his eyes had difficulty making contact with his own. “It is a little disturbing. I was tempted to poke you more than once.”

John nodded. “Yeah, I can see where that would be freaky.”

“Teyla does not know how to respond to this situation.” Kanaan tilted his head to one side, his expression turning thoughtful. “I have never seen her not know what to do.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m floundering a bit here myself,” John admitted.

They sat in silence for a moment. Normally the sound of heart monitors and other devices would provide a constant, if somewhat irritating, background noise. The equipment was humming to itself quietly, but all the alarms had been turned off. There was no point in the staff running over every few seconds to reset the machines as they registered his state of ‘death’. John watched the flat-line moving across the monitor screen with a feeling that none of this was really happening and that any minute, he’d wake up and fine himself being bundled onto the backboard and rushed into the infirmary while Carson and the rest worked to save his life.

Kanaan shifted uneasily in his chair. “Teyla would normally perform the Ring Ceremony for someone as important as you have been to her.”  
John noticed the use of the past tense. Something inside burned at the implication, but he held his tongue. Kanaan continued speaking, oblivious to John’s irritation. “There is no ceremony that covers your situation. For generations, the Athosians have lived with ceremonies to guide them, to give them structure and meaning to an otherwise unpredictable existence. Teyla would be here with you now, only she does not know what to say or do. I told her I would sit with you for a while.”

“Thanks.” That was pretty decent of him, all things considered. It occurred to him that Kanaan had some experience with becoming something else against his will. It couldn’t hurt to ask. “What was it like, becoming one of Michael’s hybrids?”

Something like hate spasmed across Kanaan’s face, briefly turning his features into a semblance of that alien life form he’d once been, and then was gone. “Imagine seeing yourself slowly, bit by bit, becoming something else. Something you don’t want to be. Something that others look upon with fear and loathing. Imagine seeing the person you love most in your enemy’s hands and scarcely recognizing her. Of being rendered incapable of caring to the point of letting him harm both her and your unborn son. Now imagine finding that small part of you that is still human, and fighting to hold onto that. See yourself return to normal and yet not ever feel normal again. Know that where ever you go, people still look at you with distrust, as though you are some alien thing among them that might turn on them at any time.”

Okay, right. Maybe he should be doing a better job of including significant others in Team Night events. No, damn it, Team Night belonged to _him_. Ronon and Teyla and Rodney were his team. No one else’s. Everyone else had someone. He had his Team, goddamn it. He wasn’t sharing.

The next words came out of his mouth almost involuntarily. “Do you think that’s going to happen to me?”

Kanaan did that head tilt thing again, looking him over in deep assessment. “I do not know. I do not know how you will continue to change.”

“I’ve changed?” Involuntarily, he touched the side of jaw.  
“You are quite pale. And there are dark circles under your eyes. You still look...normal. Attractive, even. By the standards of your people.”

The qualifier was a curious touch. John wondered if Kanaan resented his relationship with Teyla. Looking back given how much time Teyla had spent on Atlantis, and how devoted she was to the Team, John could see why Kanaan might have felt concerned.

“You’re saying I look pretty good for a dead guy.” John offered up one of his half-smiles.

Kanaan shrugged.

Great.

His earlier question came back to mind and he felt compelled to ask it again. “If I’m dead, why do you think I’m still here?”

Kanaan shrugged again. “How do your people put it? Unfinished business?”

It seemed as good an answer as any.

****

Carson came to check on him around midnight. “How are you feeling, lad?”

“I’m not feeling much of anything at all.” He was getting seriously cold though. A couple more blankets and a hot water bottle wouldn’t go amiss.

Carson nodded, felt for a pulse, pursed his lips and covered John’s hand under the blanket again. During the course of the evening, puffy bags had formed under his eyes, making him look like a droopy cartoon dog. “Well, I don’t have much else to tell you right now. I hope to have more information in the morning.” 

John knew Carson had to lie to him. He had to keep up the fiction that everything was going to be all right. John had lied to people before, but never quite on this scale. It must really suck sometimes to be a doctor. To be the one thing standing on the line between life and death. Sometimes, Carson must feel like he was only directing traffic. For the first time, John could appreciate the kind of toll that could take on someone year in and year out. He’d only ever seen it from his side before, the receiving of the bad news and living with the pain of loss. Carson and the others on the medical team dealt with this sort of thing all the time, with people they knew and (presumably) liked, as well. The sheer responsibility that he shouldered as part of his daily duties made John’s pale by comparison on the average day.

“Hey,” John said, stopping Carson when he would have turned to go.

Carson looked back in mild inquiry, reminding John so much of one of the old geldings his father used to own that he almost laughed. He fake-coughed instead, and saw the look of patent disbelief on Carson’s face. Oh. Right. Not breathing, so why would he cough? He rubbed his nose, feeling the ice-cold tip and hoping it wouldn’t break off. “Um, I just wanted to say, all that crap about calling Keller back in? That’s just Rodney being Rodney. I know that when it comes to weird medical shit, you’re the best. And I know you’re doing your best. So um, don’t think I would rather have anyone else here working on this, okay?”

Carson took a step toward the bed. He squeezed John’s shoulder with a brief, forced smile, and walked away. 

_One down. Everyone else to go_.

Ronon dropped by next. He threw himself down into the chair beside John’s bed. He looked as though he’d been working out. His skin glistened with sweat and he had his dreads tied back off his face. Ronon’s answer to everything. If you can’t solve the problem, beat the shit out of something. He said nothing to John, only picked at the leather stitching on one of his arm guards.

“Well, this is weird,” John said, breaking the silence at last. “You know, this isn’t how I pictured things ending up between us.”

Ronon lifted an eyebrow. 

“No, not like that.” Jeez, he didn’t want to know what Ronon was implying with that look. Because that look implied that he knew there had been something between John and Rodney, and that implied all sorts of things he’d rather not think about. “I meant, you and me. I always thought we go out somewhere like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

Ronon raised his other brow.

“I can’t believe we’ve never watched that movie. Make a note, next Team Night, we’re watching it.”

Silence fell between them. Who knew what state he’d be in by next Team Night? “What I meant, though, was I never pictured my...Well, I never saw this coming.”

A small smile twitched the corner of Ronon’s mouth. “You never do.”

John nodded with resignation, only to have frustration nip at its heels. “I just somehow always saw us going off somewhere to fight the Wraith. You know.”

Ronon nodded slowly. “Once Teyla settled down with Kanaan to have more children. And Rodney married Keller.”

This time the silence between them seemed to hold its breath. When John looked up, Ronon was watching him. It felt a little like walking through the woods by your house and suddenly looking up into the face of a lion. Unexpected and unnerving and breathtaking all at the same time. “Um, yeah, right. When everybody settled down. I never thought we’d end up stuck on Earth, though.”

“No Wraith here.”

“No.” He hesitated a moment and then rushed on with his request. “Look, if I start to turn into something dangerous, I want you to kill me, okay?”

“How?”

Ronon’s simple question took him aback. He had a point. If John was already dead, how was Ronon supposed to kill him? Maybe he should make a list of zombie movies for Ronon to watch. Although, now that he thought about it, Ronon looked supremely innocent as he sat in his chair. Like he was just messing with John.

“Um, right. That might be tricky. Use your imagination.”

This time, he didn’t imagine the slight smile that crept over Ronon’s features. “Okay. But just remember, it was your idea.”

“You enjoy shooting me entirely too much.” It was hard to grouse. It felt as though he was wearing a mask. Like his face was forgetting how to respond to his emotions. Not that he’d ever been as openly expressive as McKay.

“It never gets old.” Ronon’s grin was a flash of heat lightning in the night and gone again.

“Why do you think I’m still walking around, Ronon?” Hell, Ronon had seen a lot of weird shit as a Runner. He knew about the weeds that treated the fever that had given them all amnesia that time, and he’d known what to do with Rodney when the parasite was eating his brain. If Teyla was out of her depth, maybe Ronon had an answer.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it. I figure there’s got to be a reason. Something you haven’t done yet. Something only you can do.”

Back to unfinished business again.

“Yeah, but what?” John picked at a bit of fluff on the blanket, rolling it into a ball and flicking it away with his fingers. “What would you do if you were me?”

Ronon shrugged. “I dunno. Might be cool to hunt down my worst enemy and see the look on his face when he tried to kill me.” Ronon’s smile was a ghost appearing briefly in the window of an abandoned house, something mostly imagined. “Tell people what I always wanted to say to them but never did.” He shrugged again. John figured if they’d been outside, Ronon would have dug a booted toe into the dirt like a six-year-old boy.

“Never known you to be shy about telling people what you thought of them.” John deliberately misunderstood Ronon’s suggestion in order to make him flash that gorgeous smile of his.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad that we rescued you back on P3M-736.” When Ronon looked at him blankly, he added, “You know, the ‘sunscreen’ planet.”

Ronon’s expression was sly this time. “You mean, you’re glad I didn’t kill you guys on the spot.”

It was John’s turn to shrug. “That’s how I knew I wanted you on my team. You could have killed us all, but you didn’t. You were a soldier, not a killer. Anyway, I’ve never regretted the decision.”

He held his bandaged hand out to Ronon, who gripped him by the wrist like a brother in arms. 

“Yeah,” Ronon said. “Me neither.”

 _Two down_.

****

He hadn’t expected to see Teyla that evening. Or rather, he’d assumed that Kanaan had been her stand-in. He should have known better. She came in around three a.m., with dark circles under her eyes and her serenity looking frayed around the edges. Even her hair was frazzled, not lying in its usual smooth coppery waves but pulled back hastily, without thought to her appearance. Long strands escaped the messy ponytail to hang about her face.

“Hey,” he said softly, when she stepped into the pool of light around his bed. Elsewhere, the infirmary was quiet. He was he only patient and the dead didn’t need that much monitoring, right? Carson had left hours before join forces with Rodney, in the hopes of finding something useful to correlate with the information he already had. It was just him and Teyla in the infirmary, and for that, he was glad. She sat down beside his bed, placing a handwoven bag at her feet.

She laid a hand on his with a smile, withdrawing it smoothly and without any indication of how repulsive she must have found to touch his cold skin. 

“I saw Kanaan earlier. He’s a good guy. Tell him I appreciate him hanging out here with me, okay?” He cleared his throat, not because he had to, but to stall for time. “It, um, dawned on me that I haven’t really, well, that I—not exactly resented—well, okay, maybe resented just a little...” He was losing his train of thought. Oh, right. Apology. “What I’m trying to say is I haven’t been all that...” Nice? Accepting? “Um, cool. You know, with Kanaan. I think on some level I blamed him for getting you kidnapped by Michael.” Which was stupid. Yeah, the fact that Torren had the combined DNA that Michael wanted for his hybrid race was part of why Teyla had been kidnapped—but if anyone was to blame, it was John and Carson and the expedition for experimenting on Michael with the retrovirus without his knowledge and then lying to him about it afterward. Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

To his shock, Teyla’s face crumpled. Two silent tears tracked over her cheekbones and down her smooth skin.

“Teyla!” John was alarmed. “Don’t cry. Why the heck are you crying?” This was terrible. He had to stop her at once.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “It is just that I have never seen you try to articulate your feelings before. That means...it must mean—” Teyla broke off to cover her mouth and turn her head away.

“That I think I’m dead? I kind of do, Teyla.”

Teyla used the heel of her hand to wipe away another tear and sat up ramrod straight in her chair. “Rodney does not believe you are dead.”

“Rodney is deceiving himself.”

“I fear you are right.” She hesitated a moment, then went on with studied casualness. “He is very upset that Dr. Keller has decided not to return to Atlantis at this time.”

John shrugged again. It was becoming almost reflexive. “What can she do? Without the _Daedalus_ , it would take her almost a day to return from Geneva. There’s nothing anyone can do, and according to McKay, she’s been working on this paper presentation for months now. Sure, she had to strip out all references to the Pegasus galaxy, but her work on the enchuri plant and its effects on the watchamacallit—the fever that gave us amnesia?”

“Kirsan fever.”

“Yeah, that. Anyway, she’s done a lot of work with that plant and its medicinal properties are pretty extensive. Anyway, according to McKay, the Ancients brought some to Earth and the only place you can find it is in the Amazon, so Keller went to some summit meeting on environmental conservation. With the SGC’s blessing.” Probably another indicator that the SGC was moving toward declassification of the Stargate program. John wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t sure Earth was ready to know what was out there.

“You seem to know a lot about her work.”

John indicated the radio, which was no longer in his ear, but lying on the tray table beside the bed. “Rodney felt the need to explain at length why Keller couldn’t come back from the summit.”

“Mr. Woolsey is also not very pleased that she chose not to return at this time.”

“Really?” John couldn’t help it—he felt the tiny rush of interest that comes when hearing someone that you’re not particularly fond of might be in trouble. Of course, the feeling was mutual. He suspected Keller knew darn well that he had been fully prepared to kill her that time she started turning into an alien plant that wanted to take over the city. And he did have a habit of blowing her off whenever she’d ordered him to stay in bed due to life-threatening injuries but he’d decided he needed to be part of a mission. That didn’t even include the mutual animosity over Rodney. He’d hoped that part didn’t show.

Okay, since he was being honest with himself here, Keller wasn’t that bad. She was cute in a girl-next-door kind of way, and when she wasn’t paralyzed with self-doubt, she was a decent doctor. He just didn’t think she was up to Pegasus standards—or Rodney’s playing level, for that matter. 

Teyla leveled a long look at him. “He felt that her place was here under the circumstances. So do I.”

John turned his hands palm-side up in a gesture of appeasement. 

“Dr. Biro came back. She was visiting family, but when she heard what had happened to you, she took the next flight back to San Francisco.”

“Really?” John was surprised. Surprised that Biro had family in the first place and that she thought enough of him to leave them under the circumstances.

“She and Dr. Beckett have been working non-stop to find an answer to your...condition.” A small smile graced her face. “Everyone who can possibly help is working on your case. And those who cannot help are showing their support in any way they can. During the dinner break, Radek special ordered some T-shirts from the mainland and had them shipped in via the military at some great personal cost, no doubt. I am not sure they are in the best of taste, but everyone is wearing them.” Teyla reached into the bag and pulled out a black T-shirt. Unfolding it, she placed it in John’s lap.

On the front, there was a picture of him taken at some point when he wasn’t looking, which was probably a good thing. He hated having his picture taken and usually a camera pointed at him was going to result in a terrible photograph. In this one, his hair was sticking up in spiky disarray, and the perpetual smirk was firmly in place. To his right was a cartoon depiction of a box with a radioactive emblem on the side, on his left was a beaker containing a toxic-green solution. The T-shirt stated in bold letters, “Wanted: John Sheppard. Dead or Alive.”

John snorted and went into full-blown braying mode. Teyla laughed as well, so hard that fresh tears squeezed from her eyelids and coursed down her face. No sooner would each of them start to regain control, then one of them would catch the eye of the other and they’d be off again.

Finally, John was able to speak without breaking down. “I just want you to know how glad I am that you didn’t turn away from us when we showed up on your planet that night, Teyla. We thought we were such hard-ass know-it-alls and you guys were the local yokels. You should have kicked us out of your village and instead you welcomed us into your tents. Because of that, we made a lot fewer mistakes than we might have done.”

Teyla leveled him a look that was still brimming with laughter.

“Okay,” he conceded, “we made a lot of mistakes, yes, but still fewer than if you hadn’t decided to help us.”

Teyla shook her head. “It is I who should thank you. You took my people in when we had nowhere else to go. You went into a Hive ship to rescue me and others. No one had ever returned from a culling before, John. No one. You gave my people hope when there was none.”

“Some would say we fucked up royally as well.”

Teyla leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “It is true. Many have died as an indirect result of you rescuing me and waking the Wraith. There are other actions that your people took that had detrimental effects as well, Michael being one of them. But when we left Pegasus to come to Earth, the Wraith were less of a threat than ever before. It is because there was so little left for them in Pegasus that they made the journey to your galaxy.”

That, and access to ZPM technology. The development of the Wraith hyperdrive with the use of ZPM technology wasn’t likely to be a one-time thing. John had been arguing for a while now that Atlantis belonged back in Pegasus to suss out any other Wraith ships that were thinking along the same lines, to thoroughly quash any possibility of the Wraith recovering from their war with the Replicators and coming back in full force. The Powers that Be, however, argued that Atlantis needed to stay on Earth, now that the other Chair had been destroyed in Area 51. Earth needed a defense, they maintained. To hell with the inhabitants of Pegasus, it would seem. There’d been talk of putting Atlantis on the moon, though Rodney had argued vociferously against it. The energy drain on the ZPMs would drastically shorten their useful lives, for one, something that could matter in the event of another Wraith attack on Earth if they wanted to fly into battle. Not that The Powers That Be tended to think beyond their own personal existence, though. That meant protecting Earth for now and letting future generations worry about how best to keep the planet safe. The longer they dicked around, the less likely they’d ever go back to Pegasus, that much he knew. Already, some members of the expedition had been gradually re-assigned. In some ways, he and Atlantis were the same right now. The Walking Dead.

A thought occurred to him. He sat up and began stripping himself of the useless monitoring equipment. He wasn’t going to sit here any longer and stare at flat lines rolling across the screen.

“Where are you going?” Teyla asked, gathering up the T-shirt with the intent of following him. 

He held up a hand as he swung his feet to the floor. “I need to speak to Todd. Cover for me, will you?” He left her, open-mouthed with protest, as he headed out of the infirmary at a steady jog.

****

He found Todd, as expected, in the holding cells of the city. The Wraith lay unmoving, one arm covering his face as he lay on the small iron cot, as John entered the cell block.

“You look like hell,” John said.

Todd lowered his arm at the sound of John’s voice. He took one look at John and sat up slowly. “I could say the same about you, John Sheppard.”

“We don’t have much time.” John glanced back over his shoulder and pressed the entry code on the door. “I convinced the guards on duty to let me in, but they’ll be checking in with my command even as we speak.” The energy bars that covered the door disappeared, and John stepped into the cell.

“You are most foolish, Sheppard. Do you think I will resist feeding on you out of some respect of our former arrangements? I have fed on nothing but your laboratory rats ever since I have been incarcerated in this miserable cell. For three hundred and sixty-six of your planet’s turnings. I can smell food all around me, and yet you give me nothing but the barest minimum to sustain me.”

“Hey, be glad we did that. My vote was to kill you.”

Todd leapt to his feet and swooped down on John like a vampire in an old-style horror movie. He’d raised his hand to strike, his mouth in an open hiss, when he suddenly wrinkled his nose and lowered his hand. “Are you _dead?_ ” His voice clearly registered surprise.

“I don’t know. I was kind of hoping you could tell me.”

Todd circled him slowly, testing the air like a dog checking out a bag of garbage. He leaned in and sniffed loudly underneath John’s left ear. The sensation was a weird one. He couldn’t possibly be turned on by Todd, now could he? He suspected that if he’d been alive, he might have found this moment intense, even exhilarating. Like bungee-jumping off a bridge. Now it just felt...odd.

Todd smacked his lips several times, as though tasting something bad, and walked back to his cot in a huff. “I suppose you want me to feed on you and then reverse the feeding so that you will return to your normal self.” He sat down and curled his lip at John.

“Yeah. That was kind of my thought.”

“Well, even if I had the energy to do that, which I don’t, I would rather feed on an old leather boot. I would be getting the same amount of nutrition. You’d make me sicker than I already am. You’re starting to rot, Sheppard.”

“Now that’s not a very nice thing to say.” Lorne’s voice cut in sharply behind John. “Colonel, I believe Dr. McKay would like a word with you.”

John made sure he was not in Lorne’s line of fire as he left the cell. One of the marines with Lorne stepped up and re-locked the door. Lorne left the marines to guard Todd and motioned to John his intent to escort him out of the cell block.

John paused and looked back at Todd. “If I get out of this, I’ll be back.”

“Why?” Todd asked. Slumped against the far wall, he looked as though he didn’t care, but his eyes, as flat and black as a shark’s, gleamed with interest.

“Because we had a deal. And this wasn’t part of it.” He waved at the cell, though if he meant the imprisonment or being on Earth, he couldn’t say.

Lorne was tight-lipped with disapproval as together they walked out of the prison block. “With all due respect, sir, what were you thinking?”

“With all due respect, Major, whenever anyone uses that phrase to a superior officer, there’s no respect intended whatsoever.”

Lorne cut him a sideways glance. A hint of a sly smile was there on his face, but he quickly controlled it. “You know what I mean, sir. You, in there with Todd. What were you thinking?”

“That I didn’t have anything to lose.” John stopped Lorne with a hand on his arm. “Lorne. Evan. This situation is totally fucked up. If we can’t get a handle on it, I want you to take care of the city for me, okay? There’s no one else I’d trust with her more than you.”

Lorne frowned, even as he worked to control his facial expression. “Colonel. “ He hesitated over the name before speaking it. “John. You know they won’t give your command to someone of my rank. They’ll bring someone else in over me.”

“Yeah, but it will still be you running the day to day crap.” John clapped him on the shoulder and started walking again, leaving Lorne to follow in his wake. “I’m counting on you to keep everyone straight around here.”

“Yessir!” Lorne’s response was crisp. “Now, if you would, Dr. McKay really would like to see you.”

 _Three, four, and five_.

****

McKay turned out to be in the room with the Ascension device.

“I thought we disabled this thing?” John stood in the doorway of the darkened room. A bright spot of light shone down from the ceiling over the control panel. From underneath, Rodney’s legs stuck out. Somewhere inside the panel, a small globe of light bobbed like a firefly on a summer’s evening.

“Obviously I am trying to fix it again.” Rodney sounded muffled and annoyed, something John had learned to enjoy over the years.

_Just like old times._

John crouched down and took the flashlight from McKay, holding it steady so Rodney could use both hands to work on whatever it was he was fixing. John saw that he was wearing a Dead or Alive T-shirt.

“By yourself? In the dark?”

Rodney pulled his head out just far enough to glare at John briefly before diving back into the console. “I’ve got people working on Plan B, C, D, and E all over the city. This is Plan A and it is, as you well know, a bit dangerous. And the most likely to work. Therefore, I’m working on it myself. And voilà!” Rodney broke into temporary French as the lights came on in the room. “I’ve got it working.”

“Let me guess. You hit me with the Ascension machine, and then before I Ascend or die, you run me through again, resetting my pattern with DNA from the last time Beckett checked me post mission. When I was still alive.”

“It’s a brilliant plan, much better than letting Todd feed on you. What, do you have a death wish? No, wait, don’t answer that. Todd hasn’t had a good meal ever since we’ve been here. If you _could_ have gotten him to feed on you, he probably wouldn’t have stopped. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have given it back.” Rodney crawled out from under the console and began flipping switches, pausing only to eye the ceiling warily, since that was where the Ascension beam originated the last time anyone used the machine.

“I dunno. He says I’m starting to rot.”

Rodney looked at him aghast, his mouth open in horror and disgust. Again, it should have been funny, except it was not.

“Oh, like he is the arbitrator of all things human. In case you haven’t noticed, no one is signing Todd up to star in Axe commercials.”

John snorted. “All the same, I’m starting to feel a bit like one of the leads in that movie, whatsitcalled? You know, the one with Goldie Hawn where she drinks the potion and can’t die, even though her body is falling apart?”

“You are _not_ dead.” Rodney was fierce now. “Here. Stand here.” He thrust John into the former path of the energy beam and went back to tapping into his pad, which he’d connected somehow with wires to the Ancient console.

“You keep saying that word,” John paraphrased in a bad Spanish accent. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“You’re quoting from the wrong part of that movie.” Rodney was triumphant as he shook his finger at John. “You’ve been mostly dead all day.”

“And you’re Miracle Max, here to give me a pill to bring me back to life?”

“Exactly. If you’re going to self-insert into a movie, I’d pick _The Princess Bride_ over _Death Becomes Her_ any day.” Rodney put the finishing touches on his programming. “Get ready. The telepathy is no fun, but the telekinesis is a blast.” He hit the keyboard on the pad with a flourish.

Nothing happened.

Rodney hit it again. Still, nothing happened.

“I don’t understand. It should work.” Rodney poured over his program, the viewscreen casting a bluish light over his features. He stabbed repeatedly at the keyboard with his index finger.

“It’s okay, Rodney. It’s okay. I know you did your best.”

Rodney looked at him as though he’d just suggested that the real problem with the Wraith was that no one had ever sat down and attempted to discuss a peace treaty with them.

“We’re going to fix this. I just need a little more time.” Rodney set aside his pad and crawled into the console once more.

“Rodney. It’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s _not_ okay!” Rodney came out from under the console to snarl up at John. “Don’t you get it? You’ve never given up on me. Never. Not when I blew up five sixths of a solar system—”

“I _was_ a bit hard on you then.”

“Don’t interrupt me in the middle of a heartfelt speech. You were pissed with me, and with good reason. You went out on a limb to support me and I made you look bad in front of Elizabeth and everyone else. My arrogance got Collins killed, too. I’ve never forgiven myself for that, you know? I can forget it for a while but there are times when I wake up in the middle of the night and I remember the names of every single person that has died under my watch.”

“Yeah.” John’s voice was soft. “I know.”

“Of course you do. Look who I’m talking to—Colonel Call-Me-Atlas—yes, that much is obvious. Anyway, you’re the one who is always sure I can solve whatever is it you need solved before the clock runs out. Rodney, get us off this planet before it explodes. McKay, I need those figures before the Wraith get here, or before we crash, or before life as we know it in this universe ceases to exist. And you didn’t give up on me when that parasite was turning my brain to mush. That much I remember. I may have forgotten everything else, but I remembered you, John, and how you never gave up on me. I’m not giving up on you now. It’s my turn.”

Rodney glared at him with such a mulish expression that John half expected him to sprout long ears and start braying. _Tell him_. Yeah, he could tell Rodney that he’d already pulled his heroic save of John once before, defying all rational behavior to spend a lifetime correcting an alternate timeline so that John was returned to Atlantis in time to save Teyla from Michael. But what good would that do? Rodney hadn’t given up on him then—working on a solution his entire lifetime, knowing that he’d never find out if he’d succeeded or not. No, Rodney hadn’t given up then and he wasn’t going to give up now.

Part of him wanted to tell Rodney about the time with the brain parasite instead. The part he didn’t remember. How he’d sought out John whenever he got confused or scared. Not Jennifer. John. 

What he really needed to tell Rodney was that he was fine with Rodney just the way he was, that Rodney didn’t need to change for him, didn’t need to ‘tone down his sarcasm’, or learn to play nice with others, or for one minute think he was any less brilliant than he was. Sure, McKay needed someone to keep him on task and to take him down a peg or two at times, but not change the fundamental person that he was. Never change. If there was ever any unfinished business between him and Rodney, that was it.

Unless...

“Rodney, get up.” John held out his hand and Rodney took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. 

Rodney automatically wiped his hand against his shirt after John released him. “Sorry, but your hand is really cold.”

John ignored his squeamishness. “Look, I think the reason I’m still hanging around is because I’ve got unfinished business here. I thought it was because I needed to say goodbye to everyone, but talking with you here, I see that’s not it.”

“Because you’re not dead.” Rodney dropped his chin into his chest and beetled his eyebrows together, looking like he might paw and charge at any moment.

 _Keep telling yourself, that, buddy. You’re the only one that thinks so_. “What if we’ve been looking at this all wrong? What if the problem isn’t really with me, but with Atlantis?”

“What? Are you insane? Really, Sheppard, as ideas go, this is one of your dumber ones.”

“Hear me out. What if I’m only a symptom? That the real problem lies in the city itself, and that with the strongest ATA gene, I’m the first clinical sign?”

“You still should have died in the fall.” Rodney was stubbornly clinging to something that made some sort of rational sense, but nothing about today had done so thus far. “You’re implying that the city has the power to animate you after death?”

John shrugged. “Maybe she needs me.” Weirder things had happened.

“She needs you.” Rodney’s voice was curiously flat. 

“Look, you thought you could turn back on the Ascension device, right? But you can’t. And it isn’t normal for pieces of the city to break off in your hands, you said so yourself.”

Rodney snapped his fingers and picked up his pad again. “You may have something there. I noticed an anomaly earlier this morning—another power fluctuation. I assumed it was related to the unstable crystal in the cloaking device putting a strain on the power grid but...” he trailed off as he typed one-handedly, cradling the pad against his chest. “There!” He was triumphant. “There it is again—and we replaced the crystal hours ago. With proper safety protocols in place, I might point out.”

Never. Going. To. Let. Me. Hear. The. End. Of. It.

A warning klaxon that John had never heard before began to shriek.

“What the hell?” Rodney locked eyes with him for a brief moment. It was wrong, it was bad, but John felt that little kick that came from being in a tight spot with Rodney and knowing it was up to them to save the day. And it felt so right. He didn’t even need for them to be together anymore. Just as long as they had this.

“Dr. McKay to the Control Room. Dr. McKay to the Control Room.”

They hadn’t even bothered with the radios. They’d gone straight to city-wide intercom. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” John tried not to sound like one of the dwarves merrily embarking on the journey to kill Smaug. “Let’s go!”

****

“I consider it distinctly unfair that you can no longer even get out of breath.” Rodney puffed each word as he staggered up the stairs to the Control Room behind John. 

It was a little disconcerting, John had to admit. Especially since Rodney had been running regularly every morning with Jennifer. John had easily outpaced him and had forced himself to slow down in order to keep from leaving Rodney behind. Hah. Maybe he should challenge Ronon to a race before all this was over.

“What do we have here?” Rodney pushed past John, still breathing hard, toward the main terminal. Woolsey was still wearing his usual dark gray tunic with the maroon bars at the shoulders. Everyone else on the floor, however, was wearing a Dead or Alive T-shirt. It was kind of touching, in a weird, Pegasus show of support. 

Over the years, Teyla had spoken of ‘her people’ to the point that John and Rodney had sometimes made fun over this phrase, just a little. But for the first time, John got it. _These are my people_.

“A few moments ago, we measured an unusual energy spike.” Radek looked even more frazzled than usual. “Much like the ones we were getting this morning, Rodney.”

“I know, I know.” Rodney was impatient. “I saw it too. Why the red alert, though? What’s happening now?”

Radek looked as though he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. He pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, one of Radek’s tells for a Bad Sign.

Woolsey didn’t wait for him to get around to it. “We have a crack in the housing unit for one of the ZPMs.”

“ _What?_ ” Okay, that distinctive pitch in Rodney’s voice? A Very Bad Sign. “How can that happen?”

“We don’t know. It shouldn’t happen. It can’t happen, not and remain intact. But we activated a level 4 containment field around it just in case.” Radek removed his glasses with one hand and mopped his brow, hastily shoving his frames back on his nose again.

“That’s not going to hold—”

“We know.” This was Woolsey at his grimmest. “It is already leaking lethal levels of radiation. The containment field is weakening as we speak.”

“If it fails—”

“Looks like a job for Dead Guy, here.” All eyes turned toward John as he spoke.

“What?” John shrugged. “No one else can get near it, right? So I just walk in, pick up the unit, take it in a puddle jumper out of the atmosphere—”

“That won’t be good enough.” Rodney’s face had turned gray. “This is a fully charged ZPM. Even at 50% depletion, a ZPM detonation would destroy this solar system. There’s no way you can get it far enough away from Earth before the containment field fails.”

“Oh yes there is.” It made perfect sense to John now. All of it. “We take Atlantis into hyperspace. Once we get far enough out, we’ll find some nice, uninhabited solar system and eject the damaged ZPM. See, McKay, you’re not the only one who can blow up solar systems.”

Rodney blinked, open-mouthed for a second, before speaking to Woolsey. “He’s right. It’s the only solution we have in the time available. The containment field could go at any moment, but at least we can put as much space between us and Earth as possible. We need to move now, though. Tell the SGC we’re going and that’s that.”

Woolsey held Rodney’s gaze but a moment before nodding. “We’ve got people scattered everywhere. There’s no time to recall everyone back to base. We’re going to have to leave without them.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Woolsey,” Chuck said, and John had to smother his grin, “I took the liberty of recalling expedition members several hours ago. Anyone who can or wants to come back already has.”

John purposely did not look at Rodney.

“You did, did you?” Woolsey was annoyed. “That was... extremely farsighted of you, Chuck. Don’t you think you were overstepping your authority just a bit?”

Chuck, as always, looked boyish in his innocence. “Just fortuitous timing, sir. I was thinking in terms of people wanting to, uh, pay their respects to the Colonel.”

Woolsey looked slightly more pained than usual. “Very well, Chuck, get me—” he began, only to have Chuck interrupt him smoothly.

“SGC is on channel two.” Chuck was a phlegmatic as ever, but there was a slight hint of a smile on his face. 

Woolsey turned a jaundiced eye on John. “If I didn’t know any better, Colonel Sheppard, I’d think you were responsible for this.” Woolsey tugged the bottom of his tunic down, a kind of ‘girding his loins’ gesture he frequently made before tackling something potentially unpleasant. John noticed the collar of a black T-shirt peeking out from under his tunic. “Well?” Woolsey snapped, his hand hovering over the button that would connect him with the SGC. “Why aren’t you on your way to the Chair Room?” 

John fired off a snappy salute and sprinted out of the room.

_Hang in there, old girl. I’m taking you back to Pegasus, baby!_

****

“Are you ready?” Rodney’s voice spoke in his ear. Lorne had magically appeared with a radio earpiece just has he’d reached the Chair room. Rodney had gone to monitor the status of the ZPM, presumably so he could shout dire countdowns in John’s ear.

John sat down in the Chair and kicked the seat back, the panels lighting up around him, as of old. “That’s weird,” he said.

“What? What’s weird?” Rodney’s voice nearly cracked with strain. “Weird in a ‘this feels different’ kind of way or weird in a ‘we’re all about to die’ sort of way? Because I really can’t come down there right now.”

“Not to worry, McKay.” John drawled deliberately in his best Rodney-soothing voice. “Just weird.” The connection between him and the Chair felt different. Not warm and alive as it always had done in the past, but coolly alien somehow. As though the city was no longer condescending to make him feel comfortable but was asking him to meet her on her terms.

“Oh. Well I’m glad it’s only ‘weird’ and not terminally ‘weird’ in any way. Thank you for enlightening me as to that point.” Rodney’s sarcasm was a thing of beauty when you thought about it.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” 

“So says the dead man.”

“I thought you—”

“Do you mind shutting up and flying the city? Concentrating on keeping the containment field together, now, thank you very much. In case you forgot, I’m having to divert everything I’ve got into getting this puppy off the ground. We need two ZPMs for that and I can’t take the damaged one completely offline until we’re in space. In fact, this may be the shortest trip ever.”

John took the hint. The city responded to his commands, even as ice seeped through his veins. Somehow, John knew at the end of this journey, his time would be up. Well, so be it. He’d get his city home if it was the last thing he did. And it probably would be.

They rose from the bay, the megaton city’s departure causing a massive upheaval on the water. The SGC would have a fun time explaining that one. John could see everything before him—the curve of the planet’s surface, the fading of the blue sky as they left the atmosphere and headed into the deep black of the solar system, and the first appearance of stars in a 360 hologram around him. The city picked up speed as though sensing the urgency of their mission. It would have been nice to cruise past the moon, to see the rings of Saturn, to be awed by Jupiter, but John wheeled the city on a different vector. “How we holding up. McKay?”

“Are we almost there yet? Because the containment field is leaking badly. I’ve had to evacuate all the decks surrounding the ZPM room.”

“You can cut power to the damaged ZPM now.”

“Thank God.” From Rodney’s tone of voice, it was none too soon. “We’ll be able to contain it better once we can take it out of the energy consoles.”

“You got those calculations in place, Rodney?”

“Working on it.” Rodney’s voice sounded raw. 

“I can engage the Stardrive if you can’t get the Wormhole drive up and running.”

They’d previously determined that plotting a course for Pegasus made the most sense because it was already the most heavily mapped and explored region in their systems. The Stardrive would allow them to reach Pegasus in a matter of hours. Rodney had already picked out a ‘nice’ solar system for them to destroy. 

“There won’t be enough time. It will take too long to reach Pegasus with the Stardrive; the containment field won’t hold that much longer. We’re going to have to go with the Wormhole drive. Hang on, Radek and I are getting you the numbers.”

John felt oddly detached from what he knew to be the near-panic going on in the region of the ZPM room right now. He could sense somehow, the damaged ZPM, could feel that the crack in the casing had widened during lift-off with the change in atmosphere, but that it had not gotten any worse since they’d reached outer space. A part of him wondered if his detachment was because he was no longer quite human, that he was well on his way to Ascension now.

_Fuck that shit._

“Rodney,” he growled, willing himself to stay angry. To stay connected. To keep caring.

“Now! Now!” Rodney shouted. “You should be receiving the data now!”

Almost faster than humanly possible, John assimilated the data and engaged the Wormhole drive. He felt the sensation of being pulled in several directions at once, of time slowing down and being expanded, and then suddenly everything snapped back together like a rubber band released. He depressed several switches on the arm of the Chair and rocked it back into the upright position.

“Sir?” Lorne stepped forward.

“Mind the store, Major.” John nodded to the Chair. “Carson should be on his way to take over from here. I’ve got a ZPM to deliver.”

Lorne swallowed hard, and snapped a hand to his brow in a sharp salute.

John held out his hand instead. “It’s been a pleasure, Evan.”

The shock of the coldness of his skin registered on Lorne’s face as he shook John’s hand. “This is really it, then, sir. Goodbye, I mean.”

“Yeah.” John nodded. “I guess so. So long, and thanks for all the fish.”

Lorne made his best effort at a smile as John left the Chair room and headed for the ZPM area.

Rodney met him in the hallway outside the main tower. He had some sort of jerryrigged monitoring device in his hand. Beside him stood Radek and Simpson and a lead box on an anti-grav lift. Everyone was dressed in Haz-mat suits and Radek held a Geiger counter as well.

“There you are. We don’t have much time. Disengage the ZPM and place it inside this box. I’ll be using controlling the containment field around it, but I’ll have to drop the shielding for just a moment while you shift the unit. Once you get it in the box, the lead will block the radiation leakage for a while, and I can install a mobile shield around it to get you to the puddle jumper.”

“Sounds tricky.”

“It is. I just invented the mobile shield a few minutes ago. That’s not the worrisome part, however. You’re going to be exposed to lethal doses of radiation when I drop the shield. I also don’t know if the casing will hold without the containment shield. We could all blow up with the solar system.”

“Somehow I don’t think the radiation will be a problem.” He didn’t mean to sound gruff but he couldn’t help it.

Simpson’s hand shook as she pointed out the features on the ZPM transport box. “This is how you lock it down once you have the ZPM inside.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “The anti-grav unit should let you drag it behind you with a minimum of effort, despite being made of lead.”

“Aw, that’s the nicest present anyone has ever given me.”

Simpson gave him a watery smile.

“Yes, yes.” Rodney was at his irritated worst. “Right. You two get out of here. I’ll stay just close enough to control the containment shield. Go on now, beat it. We’re running out of time.”

Radek and Simpson nodded solemnly and trudged off down the corridor in their bulky suits.

“What, you volunteering to get exposed to radiation, McKay?” He’d meant for it to be a joke, a poke at Rodney for all the times he’d run screaming in circles about radiation and his Super Mega Plus sunscreen and how important it was for his genes to continue on. In fact, John had supposed long ago that part of the reason Rodney had left him for Jennifer was the whole kid factor. Not that they’d ever put it into words like that. It wasn’t like they broke up or anything. It was just that they...drifted. The next thing he knew, Rodney was talking marriage with Katie, and then dating Jennifer, and then setting a date.

The look of dismay and sorrow on Rodney’s face punched him in the gut. He’d seen that expression so many times before. Sometimes they’d been on the same side of the glass together. More often than not, it had been Rodney on one side, looking in at John with the pained expression of a man who didn’t know how to cry. 

John opened his mouth, intending to make a joke about ‘the needs of the many’, but Rodney forestalled him.

“Don’t.” Rodney reached out with one gloved hand and touched the side of John’s face. “Just don’t. I don’t think I can bear your cocky, heroic ‘take one for the team’ act just now. I can’t. John.” His voice broke on John’s name.

John placed his hand over Rodney’s, knowing that if he were really alive, he’d have felt the sting of tears just now. Nothing. His eyes were as dry as bones in the desert. “Let’s do this.”

Rodney seemed to shake himself and withdrew his hand. “Yes. Let’s.” He dropped his focus to his pad, grimacing as his bulky gloves made it difficult to use the keypad. “Right. Signal me when you reach the ZPM console. I’ll drop the shield when you’re ready—as soon as you have the box locked, let me know and I’ll put the shield back up again.”

John nodded and went off at a trot to the ZPM room.

The transfer of the ZPM to the lead case went surprisingly smoothly. Sure, it had made him uneasy when Rodney had dropped the containment shield, and he could clearly see the crack in the housing, the way it pulsed with energy along the damaged portion. He suspected too, that had his hands not been so cold, he might not have been able to hold the ZPM long enough for the time it took to place it in the transport chamber.

“Got it locked, McKay!” he said, noting smoke coming off the hand he’d lifted to touch his earpiece. When he turned his palm over, the skin was black. It reminded him of something from an Egyptian mummy—the skin leathery and shrunken over a set of bones.

“Shield back up.” Rodney’s relief came over the airways loud and clear. “Radiation levels dropping.”

“I’m taking the ZPM down to the jumper bay now. Once I clear the bay doors, have Carson take the city into the Stardrive and get the hell out of here.” John was already jogging toward the jumper bay, dragging the anti-grav unit behind him. The corridors were empty—the way had been cleared for him in case there was even more radiation leakage than the transport box could shield.

“Just put it in Jumper six. I’ve pre-programmed the jumper to fly straight into the Gami system. There’s nothing there but a burned out star and some dead planets. There’s no need for you to fly it in yourself. It can make it on auto-pilot from here.”

“No, McKay. I’m taking it in myself, and that’s final. Have everyone stay clear of the bay until I launch, then get yourselves back into hyperspace.”

“But John—”

“No, buts, McKay. That’s final. Sheppard out.” 

He ran the rest of the way to the jumper bay.

He wasn’t prepared to see his entire team waiting for him in Haz-mat suits. 

“Get out of my way, guys.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. He pushed his way past Teyla and Rodney, only to be stopped by the wall that was Ronon. He was kind of surprised they had a suit big enough to fit him, to be honest.

“McKay says the jumper can take the ZPM where it needs to go. There’s no reason for you to fly it.”

John held up his blackened hand. “It’s over, Ronon. There’s nothing left for me to do but see that this ZPM gets detonated safely. Let me go.” _For God’s sake, let me go out with some dignity_.

Ronon, of any of them, was the most likely to get it. His jaw worked from side to side, but he shook his head and refused to budge. 

“We still need you, John.” Teyla’s calm statement stopped him cold. No, you don’t, he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Not when Teyla spoke like that. 

“Yes, we need you.” Rodney’s voice was so quiet it almost didn’t sound like him. John’s shoulders slumped. Because it was Rodney, he’d give in to their demands that he stay with the city. With them. Until the end.

Ronon reached for the anti-grav unit.

John knocked his arm aside. “Fine. I’ll put it on board myself, though. There’s no reason for you to expose yourself unnecessarily.”

He secured the box and fired up the jumper, initiating the pre-programmed flight. His team waited for him from a watchful distance. He didn’t put it past Ronon to pick him up by the scruff like a willful kitten and drag him off the jumper if he tried to take it out himself. He hurried down the ramp, joining the others to watch the rear hatch close. The jumper lifted up, repositioned itself, and moved slowly toward the ceiling doors.

“Come on.” Rodney led the way back to the main building. “We’ve still got work to do.”

Maybe so, but John was tired. His feet dragged as he walked behind the others. His part was done. The city had no further need for him. He could just stop now, and let the cold take him.

Rodney took some readings, and satisfied that the radiation levels were safe, removed his protective head gear. Teyla and Ronon copied him; Ronon shaking out his dreads like a dog getting out of river. 

Rodney tucked the head piece under one arm and pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth to stuff it in his arm pit. Frowning, he lifted his head, cocking it in a position of listening. “We haven’t gone to hyperdrive.”

“How do you know that?” Teyla expressed a need for information, not skepticism. 

John listened as well. “He’s right. We’re still at sublight. The engines feel different when we’re in the Stardrive.”

“I don’t feel anything.” Ronon did sound skeptical. He continued to strip off his Haz-mat suit, leaving it on the floor at his feet.

Rodney tapped his earpiece. “Carson!” he snapped. “Why aren’t we in hyperspace?”

“You’d better get down to the Chair Room, Rodney.” Carson sounded worried. “I can’t engage the Stardrive.”

“We’ll never get far enough away from Gami if we can’t get the drive online.” Rodney shot John that look of dismay again. 

_Here we go again_.

“On our way,” John said into the radio, and the four of them pelted down the corridor to the Chair room.

Carson vacated the Chair as soon as he saw them enter the room. John made straight for it, ignoring the gabbling quarrel that started up between Rodney and Carson. Instead, he let his body melt into the Chair, reaching out with his mind to make that cold connection once more, in order to figure out what was wrong. He scarcely registered the accusation in Rodney’s voice, and the defensive note in Carson’s as he explained that he had not broken the city.

“Energy spike!” Rodney shouted suddenly, holding up his pad for all to see. “Everyone out, now!”

The others hurried out of the chamber. Rodney paused at the door. “John! Come on!”

“Not this time, Rodney.” John spared him only a quick glance before he leaned back in the Chair and willed it to take him. “You should go.”

He only had time to see Ronon’s large paw grasp Rodney by the collar and pull him backward out of sight before a spiral bolt of energy came down from the ceiling and enveloped him.

Liquid heat bathed his skin. It seeped all the way down to his bones, a delicious warmth that made him want to curl into it like a cat and sleep for a thousand years. It promised that and more. Peace. Freedom from responsibility, from loss. A universe to explore. To fly in its purest form, without a machine to guide but as the machine itself, to fly as a bird or a beam of light.

From very far away, he could hear someone calling his name in a long, protracted cry. 

_Can you offer me that? Can you offer me McKay?_

The warmth around him grew mocking. _I’ll risk it._

John opened his eyes, yawned, and pushed the seat upright again. Everyone was leaning in around the door to peer at him. Rodney was staring at him open-mouthed.

“Hey, Rodney.” He was deliberately casual. “I got the Stardrive back on line. We should be back on New Lantea by dinner time.” At the mention of food, his stomach growled. He’d never been so glad to hear a bodily function in his entire life. 

Teyla squealed and punched Ronon in the arm, who grinned and then mock-winced, rubbing the spot on his bicep that Teyla had hit. He growled, swooping in to pick her up and swing her around in a circle. Teyla laughed and then smoothed her hair when Ronon set her down again.

Rodney just stood with his mouth agape.

“You okay there, McKay?”

Rodney snapped his mouth shut, only to have a smile nearly split his face in two. He crossed the room in a flash, grabbed John’s hand, and turned it over. The skin was neither burned nor cut. John could feel the heat in his hand matching the warmth of Rodney’s.

“You’re alive.” His expression was beatific.

“It seems I was only mostly dead after all.” John casually withdrew his hand from Rodney’s, not wanting to make a big deal of it either way. His breath was suddenly squished out of him as Ronon pulled him out of the Chair and lifted him in a hug. When he landed on his feet, he whooped for air. Laughing, Teyla came forward to take his head in her hands and touch her forehead to his. Even Lorne was there, clapping him on the back heartily.

“I’m going to want to see you down in the infirmary—” Carson began, but John held up his hands as though warding off a demon.

“Later, Doc, okay? I feel fine and I still have a city to fly.” He took his seat in the Chair again.

“The city planned this.” Rodney pointed at the ceiling where the beam had appeared over the Chair. “You know she did. This room has never been wired with an Ascension device!”

“Come on, McKay. How many times have we been over this? The city isn’t sentient.” John couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face.

“Then how do you explain this—all of this?” Rodney waved a hand to encompass the Chair, the city, and John.

He shrugged. “You got me. Maybe we just never knew the device was here. Or...do you still have that broken piece of ledge on you?”

“What?” Rodney looked confused, patted his pockets, and then shook his head. “It’s gone. You wouldn’t think something that big would fall out of my pocket, but it must have.”

Yeah. Right. John flicked his glance up at the ceiling and smiled. “Well,” he drawled, thoroughly enjoying the moment, “speaking of the city, I’ve got a ship to take home and you’ve got damages to assess and repair, right?”

“Oh. Um, right.” Rodney flushed with embarrassment or something else and took a step back. “Right. Right. Repairs.” He began backing toward the door.

“Oh, McKay.” John called out to Rodney just as he reached the exit with the others.

“Yes?” Rodney looked back at him with a frown.

“Think you can have someone bring me a sandwich?”

Rodney’s look of sour exasperation was a sight to behold. Then, as he recognized the significance of the question, a smile broke open on his face. “Yes, um, of course. Something to drink too. I’ll take care of it.”

John closed his eyes, leaned back in the Chair, and smiled.

****

John could barely stay awake as he finally made his way back to his quarters. The city had safely landed on New Lantea. The remaining ZPM was in good shape, but without an additional power source, Atlantis was going to be grounded for the foreseeable future.

Rodney’s teams had worked round the clock to make sure that there were no areas contaminated with radiation and to repair all the damaged systems. John had spoken to him a while ago and ordered him to take the rest of the night off, to turn matters over to his underlings for a while.

They’d made a small detour to release Todd on an uninhabited world that wasn’t so far off the beaten path that he could never escape from it but also was likely to keep him out of their hair for a while. Todd had just laughed when he saw John in his restored state. With an escort of marines holding weapons at the ready, John had released Todd’s shackles and headed back to the jumper without a backward glance.

Todd called out to him as he reached the back hatch.“I learned of an Earth animal called a cat while I was on your planet. You speak of its many lives. I believe you are part cat, Sheppard.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been called worse.”

“This changes nothing!” Todd raised his voice to be heard over the jumper engines. 

“Of course not.” John flipped him the bird and stepped inside the jumper, closing the hatch. His last sight of Todd was of the Wraith laughing as the jumper lifted off.

Back on Atlantis, John was torn between heading back to his quarters for a long, hot shower and a nap, or down to the mess in search of food. In the end, sleep won out over food. He was just getting out of the shower when the door buzzed. Wrapping a towel around him, he called out, “Enter”. The word was swallowed up by a mighty yawn. Toweling his hair dry, he walked into the main living area.

Rodney was at the door with a box of pizza. “We had stocked up before we left Earth,” he said by way of rambling explanation. His gaze wandered down John’s chest, lingered for a moment on the dog tags, and then followed the line of hair straight down to where John’s dick bulged underneath the towel.

John pretended not to notice Rodney’s frank admiration. Have a little pride, he told himself. After all, as far as he knew, Rodney was still engaged.

Rodney blew past him without waiting for an invitation, setting the pizza box down on the table. “I thought you might be hungry. Again. You went for a long time without eating. I figure you’ve got some catching up to do.”

The smell of hot meat, cheese, and bread emanating from the cardboard box made John’s mouth water. That and the close proximity of Rodney, who, judging by the little tab of toilet paper stuck to a bloody place on his chin, looked as though he’d shaved recently. He was still wearing that ridiculous T-shirt, too. Rodney looked unexpectedly good in black and the short sleeves showcased his biceps nicely. Suddenly, John was wide awake. He realized he was hungry in more ways than one.

“Um, about Jennifer,” Rodney began, just when John was on the verge of opening the box.

“Yeah, did you get a chance to talk to her before we left Earth?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, Rodney seemed to be hearing an earlier conversation, and then he shook himself. Lifting his gaze to face John squarely, he said, “She called you her Kobayashi Maru.” 

“Huh.” What could he say? How could he possibly be Keller’s no-win scenario?

“Yup.” Rodney hesitated a second, then soldiered on. “She said that she knew if she came back and she couldn’t save you, I’d never forgive her. And that I’d never forgive her for not coming back either. She didn’t want to be the person that ‘let you die’ but since you were already dead, she didn’t see how she could win this one.”

A droplet of water from his hair ran down John’s neck and over his collarbone. Using the towel in his hand, he wiped it away, frowning as he processed Rodney’s words. “She might have saved me. She’s pulled some rabbits out of the hat before.”

Rodney shook his head. “She thought that unlikely. As it was, I think you were right all along—the problem was that a critical system in the city was compromised and the Atlantis fail-safes kicked in and somehow made you a symptom of the problem—though I still haven’t figured out how the city managed to preserve you like a fly in amber for most of the day. Did I tell you that one of the inspection teams says that the ledge from which you fell no longer shows any signs of damage?”

“Keller didn’t even _try_ , Rodney.” Belatedly, John realized he should just keep his mouth shut.

“I know. She said...she said that it made her realize that she had fallen in love with someone who didn’t really exist, well, not at least, without the presence of brain parasites, one would assume, and that I was in love with the idea of love—and that I kept looking for it in all the wrong places because...well, because I wouldn’t admit that what we had was the most important relationship of my life.” He motioned back and forth between himself and John at the word ‘we’.

“Rodney,” John started slowly, not really sure where he was going with this.

“I thought about what she’d said, and why she didn’t come back to the city when I asked her to, and I realized we’d never been happy together. No, that’s not quite right. I loved Jennifer, and I think she loved me. We had fun together. But I’m not entirely sure she ever really _liked_ me. At least, that’s how it feels now, looking back. Somehow I spent a lot of time trying to mold myself into something that she might want—instead of just being myself. She was right, too, about me—I was in love with the idea of love, and that my idea seemed to include a picket-fence and the requisite 2.5 children. And I realized I don’t even like children, so what the fu—crap am I doing here? I mean with my life, not here in your quarters. Though maybe a little of that too.” 

Rodney lifted his chin in that dogged, defiant way he had when he was about to reveal something personal. His courage never failed to amaze John. “See, I’d kind of gotten out of the habit of expecting you to die on a daily basis. And I don’t know about you, but when I get scared I’m going to lose something, I start to tell myself I can’t have it anyway, and I distance myself from it so that when I inevitably lose it, the pain won’t be nearly so bad. But that’s not how it works. That’s a big fat fucking lie. Today proved that to me.” For the briefest of moments, Rodney looked at him with that same heartbreaking look of love and loss that he had when they’d been standing outside the ZPM room. “So anyway, I thought I’d stop by and offer you some food and see if you wanted to hang out for a while.”

Well, as offers went, it wasn’t a bad one. Sure, maybe he should hold out a bit, after all, John Sheppard wasn’t used to being second best. Maybe he should make Rodney work for it, earn his trust again.

 _Nah_.

“Are you asking me out on a date, McKay?”

Rodney turned bright red. “Maybe. Well, what if I am?”

“Oh nothing.” John moved in slowly, watching Rodney’s eyes widen as he pushed right up into Rodney’s space. Nothing seemed more natural than to take Rodney into his arms, to breathe in his scent, to brush his lips up against Rodney’s and murmur, “I just think you should know, I put out on the first date.”

~fin 

 


End file.
